


//commented out

by ooka



Series: Incremental Development [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8304206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooka/pseuds/ooka
Summary: // is used at the beginning of code (for java) to comment a section of code.  Commented out code is ignored by the compiler and not used in the finished product of the project.  Entire files or a single line could be commented out.  The reasons behind why something is commented out could be different for various: testing another approach for a solution, change in requirement that means the code is no longer useful in this implementation, or documentation behind why the implementation was done this way. Commented out code is still there in the code base, just discarded and unused - ignored unless a developer goes back through the code and finds the lines again.These are the missing moments, various what ifs, or just random pieces of floating point exception.  (Various POVs and absolutely out of order)





	1. //day 37 out of 83 - Bruce and Tony

**Author's Note:**

> for lunabyrd, because this is her fault. 
> 
> (also forever unbeta-ed)
> 
> follow me at ookawrites.tumblr.com

Bruce comes in early that morning, before the lab's windows adjust to filter in the daylight to Tony still in the lab. He doesn't blast music anymore, conscientious of his shared lab to the point that Bruce sometimes wanted to bring up. This thing between them is still to fragile. The glue they have begun to put to their friendship in the aftermath of Ultron hasn't dried yet, so Bruce keeps quiet and his distance. 

Bruce still knows he is the intruder in this relationship. He is the one who has settled into Tony's lab, Tony's projects, Tony's home. He knows with every searching look from Rhodey, the casual way Tony doesn't make any assumptions on his opinion without asking, careful to have an answer before continuing. He knows with the way Spiderman dances around the two of them, ready to jump in if needed, even as he peruses the nanobots projects. He knows in the way Vision carefully explains things that has happened in the last two and half years, filling in the gaps and silences that linger in the Tower. 

That doesn't mean he isn't picking up on things as he observes the group, as he watches Tony. He's got the beginning of a hypothesis, the bare bones of an idea, but he's waiting, before he explains it to anyone. Wants more facts. Wants more proof. Wants to be wrong. 

He settles into the lab quietly, and is gratified when Tony doesn't look up. He continues muttering, fingers flying, as he speaks to FRIDAY. Bruce starts on his own work, mapping the neuro-passages of the example brain Tony had given him. There is something wrong about this, and Bruce has a feeling about that too. He can bring it to the forefront of his brain, can't let himself think about it too hard. Doesn't want to know it. Doesn't want to acknowledge it, have to figure out what this means. 

("What about a scan of your brain so I can use it as a comparison?" Bruce had asked the first day. 

Tony had pushed other work in front of him. "I'm not neuro-typical enough for this process. We can get a scan of Happy's brain, would that work?"

Bruce had watched as his fingers darted around the hologram, flicking between plans, lines of code, quick sketches and videos that that various blurry faces. He still doesn't miss the vibrant shield in the middle of the image. The rest of it is too blurry to make out before Tony switches to the next items in the folder, but there is a giant shield and a silver arm. A shiver goes down his back, goosebumps blossoming in it's path. 

"Tony," Bruce paused, not wanting to blunder the approach. "Is there something I need to know?"

Tony had paused, the scan of a brain in lit up in front of him. "Fit as a fiddle Brucey."

Bruce had stood there for a few moments before Tony had said, as seriously as Tony had ever gotten with him before everything. "I'm fine Bruce. Honest."

He decided to trust Tony in that moment. Just trust him at this word, double speak and missing phrases and all that. Bruce had rolled his shoulder and said, "Okay. Okay then. Send me scans."

Tony flicked them his way, the hologram big and bright between them. "Sent," he smirked. 

Bruce took the pen from behind his ear and threw it at Tony, who dodged it with a laugh. That had been the first time they had both laughed like it was before. When it was just them. No one else mediating them. 

He had missed it.)

They work in silence for hours, Tony going a mile a minute, manic and too tired but not. He's in his suit, has probably been in the lab since he came back from the event Pepper had dragged him to last night. The one he had grumbled about to Rhodey as the man made dinner. Spiderman had squeaked something when the event name had been mentioned, but Bruce had missed it. Tony had promised to bring them all back a swag bag. They had had dinner, Tony disappeared to get dressed, Spidey jumped out a window and Vision did the dishes while Bruce rearranged everything in the fridge. 

Tony had said something about getting back before he turned into a pumpkin when he had appeared again. Makeup had given his face a strange sheen and Rhodey had teased him endlessly all the way to the door of the elevator. It had felt comfortable, the most comfortable the whole group had been since he had come back. 

But that means Tony's been here since at least midnight, and the way he wears the layers of the suit is telling. Tony's always worn around the edges Bruce has begun to notice. Ragged like the edges of his t-shirts, lines of his face deeper, shadows under his eyes darker. He's been that way for longer than Bruce can remember. 

And he remember more than he should, holds it close to his chest. The moments he uses to push the other guys' simmering rage under the surface as he counts his breaths. The moments before a potential code green. He's been without an incident in months. Almost a year. It's only because he has thing to hold onto, reasons to not that he's been able to handle it that long,

Tony just seems beaten down. 

He wonders, watching Tony over the rim of his glasses, blurry around the edges, if this is _their_ fault or if this is Tony. The real Tony. The one who isn't running a show, isn't holding everything together by sheer will. The one who doesn't have to be "on" in every moment. 

_This_ Tony is softer spoken, rubs his eyes frequently, looks surprised when Bruce speaks back to him, smiles small things, barely a shadow of the grins he puts on for the press, but they warm the core of Bruce. Reminds him why he came back, why he decided to help out. Why he stays.

"Hey," Bruce says. 

He watches Tony turn, blinking stray thoughts away so he can pay attention. "Hey," Tony responds, wary like he always sounds at the beginning of a conversation these days. 

"You want to go change?" He nods at the horribly creased suit. The jacket was tossed on a counter hours ago, and the tie had been thrown on the floor from where DUM-E had rescued it, carefully draping it on the counter with the jacket on Friday's soft commands shortly after Bruce has arrived.

Tony's pants are wrinkled and the shirt has been rolled to his elbows but are still dotted with oil. A smudge of something like ink is on his cheek. His hair has slowly upended itself from the gel, scattered every which way. It's longer than usual. Bruce doesn't mention the length, no one does, because it shows the grays easier. Shows him better, underneath all the pomp and fuss. It reminds Bruce of the early days. 

(He thinks it reminds Tony too.)

Tony blinks slowly before looking down. He comes to himself in phases, awareness sorting itself through his system one limb at a time. But Bruce is used to the routine. It's normal for them. "Yeah," Tony mutters. "I should."

He stands and wobbles. Bruce stays in his chair, carefully not projecting his study of Tony as he moves. "I think I need some food," Tony chuckles ruefully, running a hand through his hair and throwing it into greater disarray. "Blood sugar must have plummeted because it had to be a normal hour if you're here."

Bruce nods back to DUM-E. "That smoothie should be safe," he observes, tone carefully bland. 

Tony picks is way in a crooked path to DUM-E, carefully clutching the counters or bracing himself on the wall all the way. Bruce doesn't follow him step by step, turns back to his papers and holograms. He doesn't even feel guilt as he uses the Hulk given enhancements to follow Tony's progress. The quiet murmurs to DUM-E as Tony sips the smoothie. 

"Want me to restock the snacks in here?" Bruce queries, careful not to say that this lab was never stocked for Tony's absent snacking habit. If he has food in front of him he'll eat, but if he gets caught up in a problem, like now, without food? Well, he just forgets.

A message pops on his screen - FRIDAY already picking up on the thread of his conversation.

"No worries," Tony states. "I can have FRIDAY order it, and I'll get to putting it away."

Bruce shrugs as he opens the conversation with FRIDAY on his tablet. "If I can do it, I can sneak some things I want in there too."

"Oh, you're just using his an excuse to get around the grocery bill huh?" Tony's voice carries mild sarcasm, his media voice. "I see what you're doing here. Just using me for my bank account."

"It's a lot nicer than mine," Bruce replies mildly, still not looking up from his tablet conversation with FRIDAY. They are going through a list of things to order for the lab.

"She's already enlisted you hasn't she?" Tony asks after a moment of silence. "Fuck, I give up. All my kids like you more than me." He takes a sip of his smoothie. 

Bruce smiles softly, checking his conversation with FRIDAY, before typing out a final reply. The list of groceries is finalized. He looks up, and Tony is staring at him, smoothie almost finished, with a bit of wonder in his eyes. Bruce meets his gaze, smile lingering. "You know you don't..." Tony trails off, before looking over at his hologram at the other end of the room.

Bruce doesn't give in, keeps watching Tony. Watches as Tony takes another sip, kale and spinach work its way into his system, perking Tony up a bit. "I've never been one to do what I don't want," he utters. "I've made a career in following my own wants." He waves at his heart rate monitor.

Tony's eyes cut back to him, soft and vulnerable. Bruce knows that if he wanted to, he could break Tony right here and now. It would be easy. A word here, a suggestion there. 

("We don't ask about what happened in Siberia," Vision had quietly mentioned one night. 

Bruce had studied the magenta being whose eyes were focused on the distant horizon. "I've read your profile. You could check it out if you wanted to."

"Tony asked FRIDAY to 'lock it down'. I could shift through the system and find the footage from the suit that FRIDAY has hidden. I could pull up the records of the phone call between James Rhodes and Tony in the aftermath. I could even find the footage from the facility itself. It would be no feat to pull the information of Zemo's interrogation from the S.W.O.R.D. server, but Tony would not have asked FRIDAY to do that if he wanted any one to find it," Vision responded as he shifted to meet Bruce's graze. "I am following his wishes."

He had smiled then, he remembers. "You're a good friend Vision."

Vision had resumed looking out the window. "I am not his friend", Vision said. "It is more complicated than that."

"What's more complicated than friends?" Bruce had asked, curious. 

"Family."

Bruce nodded absently, turning the idea over in head own brain slowly, mulling on the idea too. "You were too," Vision added.

The other guy is roaring distantly in his own head. The tone isn't angry, just significant, reminding. Like there is something just out of reach for them both a tickle at the edge of their memory. "Oh," he said, before following it with a bit more feeling. " _Oh._ "

"Yes," Vision had intoned. " _Oh_ indeed."

They had stood there in that silence, quiet and echoing between them. The other guy had been right there in the back of his mind, unlike in the recent months. Fighting for his attention. He screams wordless things, emotions behind them almost enough to bowl Bruce down. Bruce buckles under the weight of it for a moment, under the onslaught of devastating echo of loss that reverberates inside his head for a few moments. There are memories that aren't his in the forefront. Tony with the helmet off, grinning at him in the training room, joy of a good fight coursing though him. The sheer adrenaline pumping through his system in the desperate scramble to catch Iron Man in Manhattan. The red lifting from his vision in the middle of Johannesburg, people rushing away and screaming - but there is red and gold - Iron Man is there. Relief.

There is an impression that lingers there after. _Ours _, the other guy thinks hard in his direction. It's followed with an impression that Bruce can barely piece together. He can't really name it, but reminds him of his younger years. Of growing up, young and his mother's warm smile. _Family_ , he thinks back and the other guy roars in agreement for the first time in a long time.__

__Bruce comes back to himself, sitting down on the ledge of a window, sweat plastering his fringe to his forehead. Vision is steadying him, crouched before him carefully watching his eyes. The window is open, as a precaution if they need to make a run while a code green starts. He still feels off balance. The other guy is too close to the surface, but moving back inch by inch with every minute that passes._ _

__"Can I fix it?" he asked. His voice is more desperate than he would like to admit, but considering he's got his and the other guys' grief at the idea of not being one of Tony Stark's people pressing on his shoulders, it's pretty damn steady._ _

__Visions measures him carefully, and Bruce can feel the breeze of the New York fall cooling the sweat on his skin. "You're here. That's a start.")_ _

__Bruce says, "I'm doing this because I want to." He's careful to not define this. He's not even sure he could if he tried._ _

__Tony's not stupid. He gets it, the words in between. The things Bruce isn't saying - can't articulate. Tony doesn't say thank you. Never in the conventional way. He'll talk around Bruce's recent time in the hop scotching across the globe, what organizations helped him or he helped. Then, months later, Bruce will find out that each group has received a sizable donation in his name._ _

__(Because Tony says thank you on the only scale he is comfortable with, over the top and in a manner he can say wasn't him or for other reasons. Bruce knows they helped build that wall there. Knows what part he played there all too well. He can't help how he always breaks Tony, because not everything is about Tony._ _

__The aftermath of Ultron was more about him licking his wounds than getting away from the Avengers. Getting back to the basics. Getting back to who he was supposed to be. He ignored the other guy, pushed his emotions to him instead of dealing with them himself. Like an even worse way of bottling his feelings up._ _

__Tony knows that, usually. Can poke Bruce back into himself. Can take the hits with a grin and push Bruce into being a better version of himself, But in moments like now, in the aftermath where everything has gone to shit and Tony can barely keep himself together, he takes every hurt personally. Like he is the target of every misspoken word, every angry gesture._ _

__Bruce can't fix that. No one can really. But he can make sure he doesn't make it worse.)_ _

__Tony finishes up the smoothie before muttering a soft, _yeah, yeah_. He straightens and heads out of the room, waving at Bruce over his shoulder. Tony takes the stairs slowly, and the second he is out of view, FRIDAY provides the feed from the stairwell on Bruce's tablet screen. _ _

__They watch as he makes it to the penthouse, one painful step at a time._ _

__They watch as he stands in the room, peeling the vest off before collapsing on his bed. Tony watches as the blades of the fan lazily spin, around and around until his eyes close. He falls asleep in that wrinkled suit, and Bruce lingers for a moment, staring at Tony's face on the screen, and the years lifted from him. A world's worth of worries discarded like the vest on the floor._ _

__"Thank you for the assistance Dr. Banner," Friday vocalizes._ _

__Bruce shuts down the feed and peers up to the nearest camera. "Any time," he responds. He shifts his gaze to Tony's empty chair. There is a definite loss without his presence in the room, but Bruce is okay with it. He still has different marks of Tony in the room, the jacket and the tie in the corner. DUM-E, who rolls closer to him. The glowing diagram of the nanobot prototype design between them. "Any time," he repeats._ _

__The other guy echoes that._ _


	2. Unused Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room is littered with parts, tools, and small things that look like Captain America memorabilia. Tony remembers that was a part of what kept SI afloat in the early days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Memories I didn't get to use and honestly were never long enough to elaborate on. (I have a separate doc from the chapters of plot with only memory ideas. Yes my google docs are a hot mess.)
> 
> I'm working on the latest chapter for fpe, honest.

**Memory: Captain America - Tony at 5**

T he room is littered with parts, tools, and small things that look like Captain America memorabilia.  Tony remembers that was a part of what kept SI afloat in the early days.  Captain America cards, candy, any and all branding that Howard approved, which was limited and exclusive.  

He’s wondered, from time to time, if it was limited because his father was following Marshall’s supply and demand theory, just barely keeping the market to keep from getting saturated.  Or if it was because he was careful in his choices in what got Cap’s face on it.  Trying to choose things that he didn’t think Steve would hate.  Didn’t think Steve would call him out for after they brought him back.

(He’s looked at the books.  He knows his father donated what he didn’t need to keep afloat those years right after the war, when they were trying to discredit him, and Howard kept hurting his company by going just too far with the playboy image in the press and not enough miracle inventions.  

Howard put the money to Polio research in Sarah Rogers name.  Brooklyn revitalization projects.  Orphanages.  Free clinics.  He and Mom had kept them separate from the Maria Stark fund when it was eventually established decades later. Something done by the Stark family anonymously.

Tony thinks he did it because he couldn’t save Steve.  Put his penance of not being able to invent something to stop the war sooner - saving Steve -  into trying to save Steve’s home.

He doesn’t know what to think of that almost forty years later.)

 

 

 

**Memory: DUM-E - Tony at 7**

“Anthony,” Ana sings out, like she always did when she was beyond pleased a scheme of hers had come to together.  

He’s 7 now, and unfolds himself from around his latest project, and his breath catches.  It's DUM-E.  Early days, before he starts in on computer science, but he was a kid when he dreamed up his first robot.  His worked on it for ten years before he started in on computer science and started working to the goal.

(DUM-E is the first.  It means something to be the first.  To stay.)

 

 

 

**Memory: Daniel - Tony at 14**

At this age, he loves Daniel desperately, in a way, because that the man gets up and keeps going and never lets anything stop him.  Wants to be him, not Howard.  Loves him more than his father, almost more than Jarvis, and that feels like something he shouldn’t.  Something he has to hide.  

But then, then Tony had loved Daniel in this sort of way that he was someone who leaned close and spoke with Tony, told him the secrets of the universe and never left anything out.  That he was the one who would always tell Tony the truth, all of it.  As honestly as he could.

(Now he knows what the man had to deal with.  Comprehends just _exactly_ what Daniel had to put up with and push through to keep going onwards in an America that didn’t like immigrants, didn’t like cripples.  Tony knows it better than most now how hard it’s to get up some days and face the world. He knows it and loves Daniel’s silent strength that he lent to anyone who asked, even more.  His honesty, even when it didn’t benefit him to do so.

Peggy was right, Daniel was always the best of them all.)

He was the storyteller.  The one who told him of things Aunt Peggy did.  Things that Mom did.  Things that Howard did.  He never included his escapades.  He told the stories, and Tony hung onto his every word.

He still does.  In the recordings of the old SSR days that Tony has digitized.  He’ll listen as Daniel softly goes over mission details, briefings, and even random notes.  In the old home recordings he got when Peggy died, and the ones Sharon begged him to make digital.

He always clung to Daniel in his own way.  Tony thinks Daniel may have clung to him too.

(But then again, maybe that’s the way memories twist and change over time.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s easier this way Tony knows. It doesn’t wipe away the gross cling of the knowledge he is using someone he likes, he respects, like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hand to god, this portion has been around since chapter 3 but never made it in. If I have some version of it somewhere, it's because I have been staring at this godforsaken memory for YEARS. 
> 
> If it is a true dupe, my search re FPE four times today were a lie.
> 
> This was cut from chapter 9 once I realized I had two memories side by side and mergh. Formatting.

Steve gets lost in people.  In memories. Tony knows. Tony’s used it for than he wants to admit to skirt around some of the things he doesn’t talk about.  Doesn’t want to bring up. He slides in a comment about Wanda, about Bruce, Thor, Natasha and Steve will pick up the thread, follow it down until something is finished.

It’s easier this way Tony knows.  It doesn’t wipe away the gross cling of the knowledge he is using someone he likes, he respects, like that.

( _Obie_ , his mind whispers.   _You’re turning into Obie._

He fights back a chill.  The churning of His stomach.  The chill creeping in with the reactor gone.  The slow horror of wondering, _were you the reason for my parents accident?  Because I was young and easier to control without them?_ Before he knew differently)

When Steve settles beside him today, Tony doesn’t do any of that.  He just leans forward, finishing soldering the fine wires in front of him.  It’s steady work, moving down a line of the circuit, rotate and repeat. He flips the board and continues on the other side, before turning off the tool and pulling back.  He grimaces as he inspects the work. Not bad but sloppy. He’s gotten used to the help of JARVIS or gauntlet when it comes to the fine work.

“Schedule me some basic work Jay.  Remedial classes until we’re back to fighting weight.”  He says and he slots the circuit into the tiny toy.

“Re prioritizing work in accordance,” JARVIS says in his clear British tones.  

Some days, Tony thinks of the sitting room, Ana and Jarvis and Maria chattering and Howard watching them all at once behind his glasses.  He sees similarities in how the Avengers curl together in how Peggy wound around Maria and Ana, giggling like they were schoolgirls and not hardened spies.  Soft, fond looks between some of them as they watch the others like Ana and Jarvis. Mild exasperation in Daniel’s eyes.

He reminds himself of Howard, sitting back and watching all his favorite people interact.  Carefully held away and boxed into his work, only coming to join the festivities once his tumbler had been emptied three times or coaxed relentlessly by one of the others.  Tonu waves away the thought. There is no time for weepiness. He’s grieved for these people already, and is careful to make sure not to slide anyone else into their carefully curated boxes in his head.

Now is time to move on from the past. From the memories that dog his every step.

He shuts the parts closed and reveals a small car.  He places it down on the table. “Start her up J.”

The inside of the old black cadillac.  It gleams in the light, and Tony closes his eyes against the sudden brightness.  The shade of blue around the edge of the engine is unnatural, and Tony leans back as the car begins to move on it’s own.  It rolls to the edge of the table before stopping. It slowly morphs into a small flying vehicle, a little similar to Howard’s stark industries prototype way back in the 40’s.  Tony smiles, soft, and remembering his father talking about flying cars when he was small, too small to really remember but more like remembering stories he had been told and reimagined over the years.

He looks up and sees Steve watching him, hand steadily continuing on with his sketch with only a portion of his attention.  “Anything I would be interested in?” He asks, tilting his head to the pad when he receives a blank look.

There is a weird play on Steve’s face before he shrugs.  “Just getting used to the feel of all this,” his eyes dart downwards before meeting Tony’s gaze again.  And isn’t that a hell of statement. Technology, superhero fighting teams, aliens, reality TV - all encompassed in one neat statement.  Tony has to hand it to the guy, he can pack a punch even when just talking.

“It’s easier though,”  Steve adds. “In here with you.”  He smiles and it’s tentative, wary of his welcome here in this room.  Tony can’t open his mouth. Won’t. Doesn’t. But some small iota of his being rattles around, vibrating out of control the longer he holds his breath that he WANTS to tell Steve he’s welcome.  

But he doesn’t want to give Steve any sort of permanency in his life.  Not right now. Not where he is, clutching a tiny wrench and with Nat’s words still ringing in his head.  Obies’ have been there since before Afghanistan, casual in his small cutting remarks in a way Tony recognizes as calculated moves now.  (He doesn’t know which is worse. Knowing this or not.). And even thirty years later, when Tony catches Steve in Cap mode, mouth curled down and eyes sad, like he is disappointed in everything Tony chooses to be, he sometimes hears his father's disappointed tone in the distance.

Tony isn’t scared. He’s just...closed off.  Closing the doors down at the train station.  Other people can go by but no one can stop here.  It’s better this way, he reasons. Less people to disappoint.  Less people to be hurt by. It’s better, he thinks as he stares at Steve’s hopeful face.  It’s safer.

Steve’s smile starts to fade, and Tony’s crumbling resolve finally gives up the ghost. “I’ve learned that when dealing with big changes it’s always the little details that get you.  So keep an eye out for those sneaky bastards,” he grins. Steve’s relief is palpable as he sinks back into the couch.

Tony turns back to the floating car zooming back and forth.  He catches it looping in a strange pointed oval, and immediately flicks a camera off, hidden out of Steve's line of vision.  “Time to kill this test drive Jay,” Tony grits out, just enough cheerfulness to not make it seem like he is thinking about rewriting JARVIS’ humor protocols.

“Look into scaling it up sir?” JARVIS queries, as mild as milk.

Tony nods as he begins to put up his tools precisely.  The work room is a bunch mini disasters on every surface.  Tools in different piles of half completed projects and barely cleaned up by Tony or the bots.  Disorganized chaos.

He moves in his seat, shifting side to side, nervous energy rattling around in him.  “Do you...do you want to grab a burger?”

Steve puts down his pad and pencil.  “I’m always hungry,” he admits, like it’s something he’s ashamed of.  “It’s part of the,” he waves at himself. “Whole thing.”

“Well,” Tony says, and stands.  “It’s about time we fixed that thing.  

The whole thing fades to black, and all Tony can hear is, _Tony can you hear me?_ And it sounds like Steve, but it can’t be.

Then he wakes up, alone in his room, door locked, panting too hard to ignore the dream. _Fuck_ , he thinks.   _This is real._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This will be my playground for all those other POVs I want to write and missing moments from the (too long, TOO LONG) fpe chapters. FPE is still struggling along guys. I'm just seriously blocked on the next chapter. Hopefully I'll push through it soon.


End file.
